Library Tears
by L. Dora Willows
Summary: Everyone knew that Hermione spent all of her spare time in the library. So nobody found it at all suspicious when she began making her library visits more and more frequent. They never suspected she could be doing something other than schoolwork in there.


**LIBRARY TEARS**

Everyone knew that Hermione Granger spent all of her spare time in the library. To her, there was nothing better than relaxing after a long, hard day of studying and schoolwork with … more studying and schoolwork. So nobody found it at all suspicious when Hermione Granger began making her library visits more and more frequent. Some students even claimed she now slept in there, and her Gryffindor roommates did not bother to deny those claims, whether they were true or not.

The Hogwarts library's weekend hours were from 7 in the morning to 11 at night, and early risers as of late had spread stories of seeing Hermione waiting outside the library doors at 6:55, impatiently tapping her foot with her arms crossed protectively across her torso. The second those doors were opened; she would disappear behind the tall bookshelves, and retreat out of sight. Night owls as of late had spread stories of seeing Hermione slowly treading out of the library at 11:01, shuffling her feet and staring at the ground with her shoulder-length bushy hair hiding her face from view. The second she left the hallway in which the library was located, she would take off at top speed, feet barely even touching the ground, and fly in a frenzy up to the Gryffindor girl's dormitory, disappearing underneath her covers and retreating out of sight.

Now as everybody knows, beds are made for sleeping, unless you are Fred and George Weasley, in which case they are made for stacking your experiments. However, when Hermione Granger hid herself beneath her covers, she did not sleep. She did not read, nor did she add any last revisions to the coursework that was due the next month, as she had so often done in the past. No, Hermione Granger dreamt.

Her dreams were not ordinary ones, for she was perfectly conscious while the fantasies passed through her well-developed mind. It was she who controlled them. Perhaps one day _they_ would be taking a stroll by the lake. Another they would be having a snowball fight, laughing joyously as the snow struck each other in the face.

But her absolute favorite was the one that took place in a wedding chapel.

Hermione Granger had always had a very-organized mind. She could never accomplish anything unless she had a schedule, and these days her weekend schedule consisted of only three things.

From 7 in the morning to 11 at night, she would visit the library. From 7 to 11, she was allowed to cry. For no one would ever suspect that Hermione Granger was hiding in the back-most corners of the library to do something other than _schoolwork!_ Merlin forbid! No one would ever suspect that _Hermione Granger_ was the one desecrating the library's books with teardrop after teardrop. Luckily for her, Hermione Granger was well-versed in silencing charms, so she could wail and moan and just cry as loud and long as she pleased, and no one would ever know.

From 11 at night to 4 in the morning, Hermione would hide under her covers and live in her own world. She was not allowed to cry, because _someone_ in her dormitory who was half the cause of her tears might hear her. From 11 to 4, she tuned out her roommate's cheerful chattering about _him_. She knew it was dangerous immersing herself in these childish fantasies. How foolish she was, to play make-believe, to pretend that what she needed so was reality. But it was the only way Hermione Granger could keep herself alive. It was the only way she could keep herself sane. From 11 to 4, Hermione Granger was as happy as she was going to get, and no one would ever know, because Hermione Granger was well-versed in the art of keeping secrets. She had been an expert at it since the age of eleven, with a few minor slip-ups.

From 4 in the morning to 6:45, Hermione Granger would tip-toe down to the common room and get as much course-work done as possible. She had to make herself face reality once more, and strained to hold back her tears as she fervently scribbled out essays that weren't to be handed in for another three weeks. Because Hermione Granger was only allowed to cry about him in the library. If an auror or someone's death was published in The Daily Prophet, she could cry freely in the Great Hall, and that was alright. But the tears she would shed for death were nothing compared to the oceans she created every Saturday and Sunday from 7 to 11. And so Hermione Granger had come to refer to the tears she cried for her, for him, as library tears.

Weekdays were another matter entirely. On weekdays, Hermione Granger did not have sixteen hours of crying time at her disposal, she had five. On weekdays, Hermione Granger had to attend her scheduled classes. Normally, this is something she would look forward to – a nice relaxing day of academics after a grueling weekend of relaxation. However, Hermione's life was currently anything but normal, and she would rather be anywhere but in class with him, with anyone but him. Because seeing _him_ with _her_, and hearing her high-pitched giggling as his pathetic attempts of flirtation was a cruel reminder that the wishing and imaging done from 11 to 4 was pointless, and in vain.

But Hermione Granger's life went on with relative sameness. Nothing really changed. Studying, class, library, bed. Studying, class, library, bed. But that all changed one snowy Saturday afternoon, and all because of her library tears.


End file.
